


Ravenous

by LadyStrangeandUnusual (Dream_Wreaver)



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Demon!juice, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Let Me Know if I Need to Add Other Tags, Lydia has a Monster Kink, Musicalbabes, Potentially Dark Themes, Size Difference, beetlebabes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/LadyStrangeandUnusual
Summary: Hunger is not something the dead should feel. But even a demon's hunger cannot be contained
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 182





	Ravenous

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, decided to finish an old WIP, that's really my only explanation for this. Enjoy!

As a general rule of thumb, Beetlejuice preferred to eat bugs. Maybe it was because it grossed people out, or because it was a good source of protein -not that he needed the nutrients- or maybe it was because bugs were the smallest thing you could catch and eat while it was still alive, and that spark of life was the only thing the dead could taste anymore. If you asked him, he'd probably tell you he did it to gross people out, or because he liked the sensation of liquified guts pooling in his mouth. But there were certain times that not even bugs could satiate him. When his hunger went beyond the desire to taste something, a facsimile of what it meant to be alive. Sometimes, his hunger was demonic; a beast inside him only given a bit of freedom when planning a particularly nasty prank or taking sadistic glee in the fear and suffering of others, roused from its slumber and took full control. Lydia had had it right so long ago; Beetlejuice was a monster. And he could be the worst kind. On nights like that, he craved pain, desired flesh, and could only be mollified by blood.

Lydia returned from school one day to a house that was quieter than the grave. Strange, everyone was usually around to greet her; her father in his study, Delia in the attic with Adam doing yoga or restoration or one of them doing one of those activities in companionable silence, and Barbara in the kitchen fixing her an afternoon snack. That was the way things had worked out around here, that was her strange and unusual normal, and nothing every really disturbed that. Unless… unless her husband was in _that_ sort of mood. If you could really even call it a mood. He had once described it as a sort of heat. Which, he had said the first time this had happened, was the reason he was barricading himself in the basement and under no circumstances should anyone venture down there if they valued their pathetic excuse for an existence, present company excluded of course Lydia.

Regardless of what it was, when he was affected by it, his gloom permeated the house, the atmosphere cold, dark, and oppressive. Then they -for their own safety as she had told them- would lock themselves in the basement and the Maitlands would use their meagre spectral powers to protect themselves from him. If there was no body to be had, the beast wouldn’t hesitate to feast on the soul. Lydia was the only one who could withstand the onslaught without fear of dying, and only because everyone knew Beetlejuice himself, somewhere within that miasma of insanity and animalistic desire, still cared about her. Cared more about her than anyone else, and so too did the beast. But everyone else was fair game for it to tear to shreds of nothingness.

That time when she’d almost been too late, none of them knowing how the monster would react being trapped around other people, other _souls_ upon which he could feed. Beetlejuice had only known to sequester himself and deal with it alone and invisible as he had always done. But not even he would have been able to predict the beast might smell blood and shatter its cage. Lydia had returned from a seemingly normal day to chaos near pandemonium. Her father and Delia had been outside the house, frantic and fretting and worrying for their partners still trapped inside by misfortune of being dead. They hadn’t wanted Lydia to go in there either but she’d convinced them that whatever Beetlejuice had become she could handle. The Maitlands had barricaded themselves in the attic, a terrible decision as their latent lingering spectral signatures were a scent that only spurred the creature on. Heart pounding loud in her ears, Lydia had raced up the steps, hoping against all hope Beetlejuice hadn’t done anything he might later regret. She’d seen the beast of stripes and shadows ready to splinter the attic door. And so she’d known what she needed to do. At her touch the monster had turned on her and she hadn’t been able to walk properly for almost a week afterwards. She couldn't help the salivation that rippled through her body at the memory.

“Beej?” Lydia called hesitantly as she wandered through the house. Sure enough, there was a note in the kitchen explaining they were all waiting below the floors for when it was safe to return. It spoke volumes of just how terrifying the beast was that Adam and Barbara would willingly return to the place of their deaths in order to remain safe from him. The tie to her school uniform was loosened and on its way to sliding off her neck by the time she reached her bedroom. The door opened, and there he was, still in corporeal form. Lydia heaved a sigh of relief, he wasn't too far gone yet if he still looked… well, normal for him. But wait, wait, she could see the points of his ears, sharp and jagged, his scruff looked even more scruffy and laden with moss, and his hair. Oh dear. His tips turned red when he was feeling angry, or vindictive, or if he was in haze of bloodlust. The beast was often associated with red. So he'd clearly taken control by now.

“Beetlejuice,” Lydia said calmly, only barely managing to mask the intoxicating combination of fear and anticipation. Fear because she knew exactly what this monster could do to her; anticipation because she knew _exactly what this monster could do to her_.

Eyes of hellfire opened to gaze on her. A salacious, sadistic grin stretched wide across his face, canines glittering with malicious intent.

“ _Lydia_ ,” he hissed, voice containing a multitude of emotions. Pain, longing, desire, joy, desperation. All of them and more. But whatever emotion he was feeling was drowned out by the beast’s infernal, eternal drive. Hunger.

Lydia's hands instantly went to the buttons on her shirt, jacket immediately tossed to the wayside. Rumpled clothing was always better than shredded clothing, and when he was like this Beetlejuice was none too gentle with the way he treated any obstacles to her body. He let out a primal sound as her shirt was tossed aside, revealing the bared flesh beneath. Her hands went to her skirt, and when that too dropped to the floor he lunged for her, pinning her against her bedroom door.

“ _Lydia_ ,” he ground out harshly against the curve of her neck, hands roaming and twisting and scratching as they moved. His nails were sharp, sharper than normal, and Lydia was certain if she didn’t finish disrobing she’d be out a set of underwear and a pair of school socks. Her hands sought to keep his from doing too much damage as she tried to wriggle out of her undergarments. Meanwhile he was peppering open mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulders, grinding his hips against hers.

“Lydia,” he breathed, suckling so hard in one spot Lydia felt her knees give out. Thankfully her underwear had been half way down her thighs at that point so gravity did the rest of the work for her, “Lydia,” he rasped, taking in breath even though they both knew he didn’t need it, “ _Lydia_!” her name was the litany of a man entranced by dark worship.

Lydia managed to stall Beetlejuice’s wandering hands for a moment when she grabbed his face and kissed him directly. They stilled, and Lydia took the initiative to unclasp her bra and roll it past her shoulders before discarding it as well. Now fully naked and prepared for his onslaught, she slowed the kiss just enough to break it and rest her forehead against his own.

“Come my monster,” she cooed breathlessly, “It’s time to feast,”

In less than a second she was in his arms, through the air, and on her bed. Before she could move he was on top of her, and she was now scrambling to rid Beetlejuice of _his_ clothes. They ripped and tore and melded into his flesh as his form altered to match the mind in control. She saw the horns as they grew, protruding from his forehead; the way his hands grew impossibly big, stemming from equally as thick striped forearms; his striped thighs, the platelets that covered his chest, the bat-like wings that sprouted from his back, and the striped tail that swung this way and that with heavy anticipation. Black clawed nails on blood red fingers ran themselves down her sides, and Lydia licked her lips as she saw just how ravenous the beast was for her. The only thing that gave her even a hint that Beetlejuice was still beneath the layers of demonic monster were the glint of mischief in his reptilian eyes and the smirk that pulled on the corners of his maw, fully showing off the sharp canines seated within his mouth.

He let out an inhuman growl and lowered his mouth to hers. Lydia placed kisses along his fangs, not quite able to meld her mouth to his when he was in this state. Her hands ran themselves along his body, palms and fingers spread wide. The beast liked being petted, fingers twining in the shock of hair and gently scritching at the base of his horns. He undulated against her, rocking against her soaked pelvis. God he was magnificent when he was like this. Not quite _Night of the Living Dead_ , but gloriously macabre all the same. Was she a heathen? A heretic? A lecherous Jezebel bent on eternal damnation for riding Satan’s dick? Maybe so, but heaven couldn’t promise any pleasure better than that which was explicitly taboo already. Pleasure came from the forbidden, the banned, the expressly not allowed. This between them was a union of an unholy beast with a sacrificial lamb, and Lydia would willingly play the victim every single time.

She felt him getting poising and positioning. And there it was, that selfish and needy part of him. While Lydia often didn’t mind not being able to walk afterwards she wasn’t exactly into immediate pain. She placed a hand along his face and gentled his rough touch. Beetlejuice paused and stared at her, eyes glittering.

“Give me a moment,” Lydia whispered, running her own hands along her body, trying to prepare herself.

Typically, Beetlejuice was a surprisingly but very generous and considerate lover. He gave and gave before he got. Though he would often say it was a form of selfish selflessness, that he loved seeing her get off on every part of him. Or maybe it was because those abandonment issues of his made him feel that if there was one thing that he had to do right in order to keep his lover satisfied and wanting to stay. Whatever his motivations usually were, they were absolutely absent at the moment. The beast didn’t care about anything but slaking his own hunger, and would cause as much pain as necessary to do so. But putting on a show, even if simply to ready her body for him, would give her time to do so. Soft moans as her fingers toyed with her nerves. He wouldn’t let her finish, her climax was reserved for him and him alone, but he’d let her get worked up enough to the point where she’d be ready to take him while he was like this.

Sure enough, when she came just close enough to shattering he stilled her hands. Lydia opened eyes she didn't realize she’d closed to see his own slitted and his nostrils flaring, taking in the scent of her own arousal. Then he moved down on the bed, prying open her legs as far as they could go. An impossibly long striped tongue descended from his maw, flicking against her leg. That serpentine appendage slid its way up against her core and flicked against her yet again, delving in between her folds. Apparently the taste of her pleasure was just as nourishing as taking his own. The benefit to a magical demonic partner was the ability to fulfill every fantasy and break every taboo. The tongue was inside her and against her clit, pressing and probing. She felt his invasive presence everywhere at once, invisible hands sliding along her skin, plucking at her breasts, pinning down arms, sliding along her lips. Too much, too much, mortal synapses were on overload trying to digest every single sensation and in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but think; ‘this is it, this is the way I die. He’s really gonna kill me’.

But the monster would never let something as pathetic as death tear his little heathen away from him. He would, however, give her a little taste of what exactly death could do. He wound her tighter and tighter until like a string coiled too tightly around two fixtures, she snapped. Lydia woke some time later to find him still lapping gently at her like an animal taking water for sustenance. Well, after that little implosion she was more than ready for him.

“Beetlejuice,” she whispered, voice hoarse for reasons that probably had a simple explanation but she couldn’t give thought to at the moment.

At the sound of his name the creature stilled and looked up at her. Slowly, Lydia struggled to a sitting position, then flipped around so she was supporting her weight on all four of her limbs. If he was going to be a beast she might as well let him take her like one. A throaty sound escaped him at the sight she presented, and then those giant paws gripped at her hips. With one singular thrust he slammed into her. Had she not been post orgasm already it might have hurt. It still did, but only from the force of his pelvis colliding with her own. Lydia bent her head down and bit at the sheet on her bed. He was big, so big, _too_ big perhaps. She felt him extend further within him than was humanly possible. But then again, he wasn’t human, despite the sort of guise he might put on. Every muscle that had protested his intrusion now resisted his withdrawl, trying in vain to keep him in now that he was there. The monster let out a deep rumbling growl, but he thrust into her again. And again, and again. This was nothing like the times she let him bed her in his slightly more lucid states, that Beetlejuice was a showman through and through, putting on a hell of a performance to satisfy them both. Carefully controlled rhythms and the nastiest compliments he could think of whispered into her ears. Dirty talk traded like casual conversation between them, including the quips and jibes that peppered their normal, nonsexual interactions. This was nothing like that. There was no rhythm or tempo, not one that Lydia could determine anyways. There was only punishing speed and claws digging into her skin only just light enough to avoid drawing blood, only guttural sounds and animalistic noises, only the feeling of complete ownership and violation. And Lydia loved all of it.

This was not a demonstration of affection, not on his part at least. Lydia might consider it one on her own, since there was no way she would have ever started doing this if she didn’t care about him. But it was selfish, and she was selfish, and they both knew that. One of the reasons they worked so well as a thing, was because they were mirrors in a sense. The difference being that Lydia had a support system that had been there for her when she needed them, Beetlejuice had not. Lydia had had parents that cared about her and encouraged her, Beetlejuice had not. Lydia had had people encourage her to be who she was, regardless of how strange and unusual, Beetlejuice had been told to repress who he was and outwardly rebelled against it. But they were both selfish, and somewhat manipulative, and they knew what it felt like to be looked right through. He got her in ways other people would deny her for, and she did the same for him. The beast was only a reflection of his more deep and primal urges, urges he repressed for the sake of keeping this one small sliver of happiness he’d managed to find. But Lydia accepted all of it, all of him, and took the pain for it. But again, she was selfish, and the unholy pleasure she derived from being treated this way, some masochistic part of her brain enjoying not needing to worry about being truly hurt even when she was in some manner being equated to an object, was indescribable. If she was an object, then she was the most precious object this creature possessed. And possess her he did.

Lydia lost count of how many times she’d passed out and woken up, the beast damn near insatiable once he got a taste. She knew, eventually, he would wear himself out. Pent up emotion was a finite currency, and she would let him spend it until he was spent. But in the interim, time might as well have been the construct it was. It held no meaning. Had they been at this for mere hours? Or had days perhaps passed? Would she need a fabricated doctor’s note to excuse her absence and missed assignments? Did she really care when he was at her hips, moving her more than he was himself, and all the while the tried to retain some tenuous grip on reality? The pleasure poured from every cell in her body until it was drained. It was easy for the monster to forget she was only human. But she didn’t have the heart to remind him.

The next time she woke up, it was to find herself cuddled up against a Beetlejuice who was -in the loosest sense of the phrase- back to normal. No more demon forme at least. He looked like himself again. Lydia peered through the darkness, somewhere on the other side of the demon’s girth was her alarm clock, bleeding red light in the gloom. Moving anything below her neck hurt, but more from the pain of exertion rather than injury, though Lydia was certain if she tried to get up and walk she wouldn’t be able to. She felt sticky and clammy and more than a little cold, probably from spending a good chunk of indeterminate time cuddled up next to a dead guy who always though unintentionally siphoned off heat from her thanks to the laws of thermodynamics. She managed to roll over enough to brace herself up on her arms and get a look at the time. Three o’clock, with the little dot almost indistinguishable through her bleary vision letting her know it was in the morning. As she settled back into the mattress she made a mental note to invest in an alarm clock which also told her the date so she would know how many days had passed whenever he got into a mood like this. Unfortunately her movements caused him to stir from the realms of unconsciousness, shifting brittle bones and vertebrae back into place with a series of small pops and snaps. He raised his arms over his head, almost causing her nose to land right in his armpit as she slipped off his chest. Lydia quickly threw an arm over his stomach to try and keep her balance.

Beetlejuice started awake with a half cut off snore, “Wha-?” he slurred sleepily. Though he didn’t become exhausted, being dead and all, the hunger and its monster took a lot out of him on a mental level which Lydia had to assume gave him the same effect as being exhausted physically. If he went too hard, he barely remembered what occurred.

“Hey Beej,” Lydia said through a yawn, still utterly exhausted by the punishment she’d taken, “Feeling better?”

“Fuck,” he let his head slam back onto the pillow, “What the hell happened?”

“You got hungry,” Lydia told him, “Though you seemed a little more in control of yourself this time. How much do you remember?”

“Bits ‘n pieces here and there,” Beetlejuice admitted, “I remember… screams. Beautiful, wonderful screams. ‘S’at you babes?”

“Probably,” Lydia yawned again, “I honestly don't remember. I lost the ability for short term memory around the time I lost count of how many orgasmic comas you put me into. Which was somewhere after… the third one I think?”

“And how long did we go for?”

“I don’t know what day it is, does that answer your question?”

“You’re a bit bitchy for someone who just got it six ways from Sunday babes,” she heard the smirk in his voice, “But seriously, how bad did I hurt’cha? Need to fix that as soon as possible,”

“Ugh,” Lydia groaned as he sat up and cuddled her closer, “Do we have to do this _now_? I just wanna go back to sleep,” it _was_ three am after all. And after the things she’d done and had done to her rest was just the most wonderful sounding thing right about now.

“Babes,” Beetlejuice was serious, “Seein’ you hurt makes _me_ feel guilty, and I don’t like feelin’ guilty because you wanna ride Satan’s dick every time I get a little ravenous so get your sore little ass over here and lemme fix it.”

“Do whatever you like,” Lydia couldn’t help but snark, “It’s not like I can go anywhere anyways,”

“Man, I should have tried that before poppin’ the question then, huh?” Beetlejuice asked rhetorically, not wanting nor expecting an answer as he gathered her up in his arms and sat them up against the headboard that miraculously hadn't broken somehow.

“Might have been way more amenable to matrimony if I knew what I was getting with it,” Lydia agreed, “Probably wouldn’t have needed to make Barbara hate you to do it either.”

“Oh no,” Beetlejuice said in a tone which conveyed the rolling of his eyes quite succinctly, “Whatever shall I do without Babs’ good opinion of me? How will I ever go on? In case it escaped your notice babes, I don’t give two shits ‘bout what anybody but you thinks of me,” 

“Really?” Lydia asked as she began to feel his demonic powers flow from his fingertips into her body. Black magic it might have been, but it worked to soothe the aches and pains of what could only be called a demonic possession in the most carnal of ways, “So that whole… I want love and adoration thing was just another con?”

“Who needs the whole world’s love and adoration? ‘Sides, I’d say I got it right here in my arms,” Beetlejuice nuzzled in close only to plant a big sloppy kiss on her cheek. Lydia let out a weak laugh and slapped him away,

“That was so cheesy,” she told him, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Pfft, never been better,” Beetlejuice told her, “Nothin’ like a good meal to make ya feel alive, know what I mean?”

“Ah yes, the three S’s of human satisfaction,” Lydia quipped dryly, “Sleep, sustenance, and sex. And in a manner of speaking, you just got all three of them in very short order,”

“Thank Satan I got me a sweet little wifeykins willin’ to do anything to provide for her man,” Beetlejuice simpered, pulling her closer, “God yer so damn tiny, ‘t’s a wonder I ain’t broke ya yet,”

“Though she be but little, she is fierce,” Lydia quoted softly, “I’m a big girl Beej, I can handle anything you throw at me,”

“But not without battle scars,” Beetlejuice sighed, “Look babes, y’know I’m into all that kinky shit, but I don’t wanna actually hurt ya. And the fact that you don’t even put me back when I get like this… ‘M a lil worried ‘bout you ‘sall. You’re as strong as they come but that thing could break ya like a twig.”

“He won’t,” Lydia assured him, “Because you wouldn’t. That thing is still a part of you, and if you wouldn’t hurt me, there’s no way he could. Yeah, I get a little banged up while getting banged. But it’s not as if I don’t enjoy it. Besides, you always come back, and you fix the mess you’ve made of me.”

“Speakin’ of,” Beetlejuice countered, “How we doin’?”

“Much better now,” Lydia stretched in his arms, whatever scraps and bruises she’d incurred through the beast’s desire she was certain were more or less washed away. At the very least they weren’t purple. Beetlejuice had told her he couldn’t exactly heal as healing was something associated with life and his magic was all about death, but he could lessen the pain.

“That’s my girl,” he rubbed one of her shoulders, “Ready to hit the sack then?”

"Nope,"

"Why not?"

“Surprise surprise,” Lydia drolled, “You kept me up talking, and magicked my pain away, so now I’m awake.”

“Well shit,” Beetlejuice huffed, “Now what?”

“Well…” Lydia drawled, “If I’m such a ‘sweet little wife who provides for her man’ I guess I should get to providing, shouldn’t I?”

“What are you-” his question was cut off as he felt Lydia’s hand pushing ineffectually at his chest. Humoring her he let himself fall back onto the mattress, which groaned and shook at the impact. She began placing kisses on his sternum, following down the path of moss and hair until she reached his pelvis.

“Christ babes,” he grunted, “What put you in such a fucking good mood?”

“Ask yourself that question again and then you’ll get your answer,” Lydia said as she grabbed ahold of him, giving a couple light strokes with her hand, “Besides, you honestly didn’t think I hadn’t noticed _you_ happy to see me when I was literally sitting in your lap did you?”

“Yeah well, you try and keep it down when there’s a hot naked goth girl sitting in your lap, I’m sure you’d do _so_ much better than me,” Beetlejuice retorted, any other smug remark lost into garbled nonsense when Lydia flicked her tongue against him. A hand immediately reached down and tangled in her hair as she began to bob up and down on his length.

For a while the only sounds in the dark and quiet room were of obscene slurping and equally as filthy profanities that began to escalate in volume as she worked her way up and down, occasionally popping him out of her mouth just to pepper him with kisses while she caught her breath. But unlike the beast, Lydia was not as giving. Just when she felt him wind up ready to break, she stopped. Though she couldn’t see in the dark, her eyes naturally flicked up to where she could only just discern the dark outline of him in the shadows. She heard him breathing, and knowing that the dead didn’t need to breathe it was more about trying to regain sanity more than the actual need for oxygen. A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth as she crawled back up to him and kissed him again, sticking her tongue into his mouth. A soft whimper escaped him as she did and the hand that had fallen from her head when she moved went to cup her cheek instead. Lydia broke apart from him and stayed there, just breathing as she rested her forehead against his.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he swore softly, grousing about it without any malice, “Shouldda known it was too good to come without strings,”

Lydia giggled, “But you’re so cute when you’re gullible,” she told him, “Besides, don’tcha wanna get to the good stuff?”

“Thought what I was gettin’ was pretty good already thank you very much,” Beetlejuice brought his hands to rest on her hips, “But I suppose I could be persuaded to think differently given a bit of incentive. What’dja have in mind Lydia?”

“Oh I think you know,” Lydia purred, sliding down only just enough to feel him prodding at her entrance from below, “Only problem is I’m not the one with night vision, give a lady a hand would you Beej?”

“Sure thing, and in exchange you don’t go spreadin’ that shit around, wouldn’t want my reputation to be stained y’know.”

“I’m sure you can probably think of _some_ way to keep my lips sealed,” Lydia teased, gasping softly as she felt herself sink down onto him. Out of all the ways they could have each other, this was by far one of her favorite. Midair was another but his juice was probably a little drained from everything he’d gone through before now, plus helping her out so they could have some more fun. She certainly didn’t want to have a rather painful slam to the floor, especially if that fall came out of rhythm with the cadence of her own hips. That hurt just _thinking_ about it, and Lydia couldn’t help the wince in more than one set of muscles.

Lucky for her, Beetlejuice took it as a sign to start moving for himself as well. It was almost frightening, how well they worked together. Almost like they were made for each other. Her hands twined themselves in his as they worked, faster and faster; harder and harder. Lydia was certain this was as close to death as he’d ever let her come, pun fully intended. She gasped his name once, twice, and third time was a charm because with the third utterance -broken of course by soft moans and other sounds of pleasure- she slumped over and shuddered while he went stiff under her. A stiff going stiff, if Lydia had been coherent enough to think about it she would have laughed. She dozed on his chest as she caught her breath one final time. Beetlejuice let out a little rumble of contentment as he traced lazy patterns aimlessly across her back.

“Satisfied?” she asked through a yawn, snuggling deeper into the welcoming pillow of his chest.

“For now,” he yawned back at her, “Don’t know how I’ll be when we wake up though.”

“I know what I’m gonna be,” Lydia slurred, the exertion depleting the energy regained thanks to his magic.

“Oh yeah?” Beetlejuice asked, always willing to keep talking to her no matter how exhausted one or both of them might have been. While they’d never formally said “I love you” he didn’t feel they needed to, since she knew for a fact she was the only one he’d do sappy shit like this for.

“Mm,” Lydia replied, “Gonna be hungry after all those calories you had me burn.”

“Hungry?” he chuckled as he began to drift off again. Lydia was just about ready to do the same, and it took her a moment to remember he’d asked her a question.

“Yeah,” Lydia murmured as she snuggled in deeper and faded from consciousness, “Absolutely ravenous.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought. Thanks for reading and I'll see you all next time Netherlings!


End file.
